Jerome Valeska//Jerimiah Valeska One Shots

Jerome

But when it was just the two of you, alone in the quiet dark, you knew  he was struggling. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of  horrors awaited him in his dreams and every time you woke to find him  pacing in the pale, early morning light, your heart broke a little more.  
The very first night you shared a bed with him in Theo’s penthouse,  he tossed and turned for hours. When he finally fell into a restless sleep, it was plagued with what you could only assume were terrible nightmares by the way he thrashed and tangled his legs up in the sheets. You might have thought it was somehow your fault but it happened again the next night. And the next. And every night after that. He was too stubborn to admit it but you knew Jerome had problems sleeping.When you tried to ask him about it, he brushed it off. “I sleep just fine,” he would tell you, laughing. “All I need is two or three hours to keep this brain of mine running in tip top condition.”You knew he would never do anything about it so it fell to you to find some way of helping him. You devoured article after article about the subject but none of their “cures” seemed to apply to him. He didn’t seem to like the chamomile tea, he wasn’t willing to take the melatonin supplements, and he certainly wasn’t interested in wearing a sleep mask or listening to a white noise machine.And then, one night, you stumbled upon the solution to his problem totally by accident.It was after one particularly satisfying round of fucking, while the sweat was still cooling on your bodies, that he laid his head down on your chest and closed his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. He usually wasn’t one for cuddling so you took full advantage of the moment and lazily traced your fingernails up and down his spine, through his hair and over his scalp.His breathing slowed, he sighed contentedly, and then, after a few moments, you realized he was sleeping. Sleeping.His body was, for once, completely relaxed and as ecstatic as you were, you didn’t dare do anything to disturb the peace. When the sun came up, you were half-asleep but still lightly stroking his back. The two of you didn’t discuss it, but after that night it became routine. He would bounce into bed sometime after midnight, full of wild energy and bursting with excitement over his latest dastardly deed, he would fuck you like the animal he was, draining away some of that intensity, and then, without saying a word, he would close his eyes and nuzzle his head into your touch like a dog begging to have its ears scratched. And of course you would happily oblige him by rubbing his shoulders, tracing his back, or (your favorite) scratching your fingernails over his scalp as you dragged your fingers through his thick, soft hair. It never failed to put him to sleep and it thrilled you to see this ounce of vulnerability, this soft spot in his armor that no one else knew about. And though he never thanked you out loud and you didn’t dare bring it up in the light of day, you knew it meant something to him by the change in the way he looked at you. That simple little action, performed in the dark, in silence, was your way of saying “I love you” and you were pretty sure that his grateful, sheepish acceptance of it was the closest he would ever get to saying it back. Deep down, you might have harbored some kind of hope that getting more sleep might somehow soothe the savage beast but of course, it didn’t. He was just as manic and unhinged as ever. But that was okay because everyone in Gotham got to see the side of him that was pure chaos and destruction, but only you got to see him when he took off the mask and faced the darkness. And if you had it your way, he would never face it alone again.

So I got this from tumbler I just don't rember who exactly posted it :(